


Her Father's Daughter

by tielan



Category: Merlin (TV)
Genre: Angst, Dreams, Father-Daughter Relationship, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-08-27
Updated: 2011-08-27
Packaged: 2017-10-23 02:57:16
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 439
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/245532
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tielan/pseuds/tielan
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The night before she marries Arthur, Gwen dreams of her father.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Her Father's Daughter

**Author's Note:**

> Written October 2009.

The night before she marries Arthur, Gwen dreams of her father.

His body is solid as he wraps her in a hug, the like of which she has not felt in so long. "Oh, Gwennie," he murmurs into her shoulder amidst tears and joy and grief. "My Guinevere. Let me look at you, now."

He holds her at arm's length, and she feels the worn roughness of his hands on her shoulders, on her cheek. "My Guinevere - a queen!" He laughs and kisses her brow. "I'd never have thought it possible! And yet it's no less than you deserve."

"Father..." She wants to explain to him that this marriage is no betrayal, that Arthur's not his father - is nothing like the man who imprisoned him and had him killed.

He gives her no chance. A great finger lays on her lips, silencing her as he cocks his head at her. "Hush now, Gwen. I never knew the prince so well, but you were always a sensible one. If you think he's worthy of you, then he must be. What's enough for you is enough for me."

"It wasn't always so."

"No." His fingers brush her cheek again. "I'm sorry for what happened, Gwen. But now I'm thinking that if I'd been content with what we had, maybe you wouldn't be marrying the prince. Maybe this had to happen the way it did. Great thoughts, eh? Too great for one like me."

"Never say that!" She wraps him in her own hug, squeezing him fiercely, wishing for the safety and assurance she felt in her father's love all those years ago. "I have never been ashamed of being your daughter, and I never will."

He laughs, a soft, choking sound of mingled pleasure and exasperation, but only says, "My Gwennie."

Gwen wants to stay there forever, resting against him, safe in his arms. But the dawn comes swift and soon, and at high noon she will swear to cleave to Arthur Pendragon, High King of Albion, in honour and duty - and love, although the vows say nothing of that.

When her father draws back, she reaches for his hands and her fingertips pass through a smith's hard callouses. "Father..."

"You'll be a great queen, my Gwen. I love you!"

"I love you!" She cries back - or tries to - but she can't get the words out, and there's a great ringing in her ears, and although she tries to push through the mists to find her father again, there's something holding her back...

Guinevere wakes, tangled in her bedsheets, to the sound of the cathedral bells tolling for her wedding day.


End file.
